And the Darkness shall not Pass

- jan-u-wine

by the door
it hangs,
worn
patched,
stained by
the Road.

I touch it--
my mind
journeys
back.

How far
I wander,
down paths
forgotten.

There…..

there,
in the trunk,
hidden
beneath
gem-embraced Mithril,
the sharpness
of the blade
lies
as if asleep.

It does not
glow
anymore
with
that strange
fire,

nor
does blood
crimson
its
fair face.

I sit
upon
the floor
and touch
these things.

They are
just
things,
now,

and have as
much
meaning,
I suppose,
as anything else.

Even the star-glass
sends me
no light.

It is as blank
as the page
I stare at,
finding no words.

My hand
seeks
again
that which
circles my neck,
lying heavy
against
the slow pulse
of my heart.

Another burden,
this one
somehow
not different
from the other...

this one,
somehow
IS the other,

for what
in my world
is there
not sullied by its presence,
nor
made less by its passing?

Has it  all meant
nothing?

Even here,
in this beloved place,
Darkness
shadows
my heart with
regret..